


catharsis

by kogamis



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29922696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kogamis/pseuds/kogamis
Summary: Lock and key is no longer a barrier for them.
Relationships: Kougami Shinya/Tsunemori Akane
Kudos: 13





	catharsis

The hall is cold and quiet as her footsteps echo throughout. Her bag in hand, filled modestly with her few belongings, weighs only a feather compared to her detention. Glass panels ahead streak with sunlight, like a filtered art that awakens a familiar memory she’s forgotten.

When the doors slide apart for her, she’s welcomed by the sweet aroma of cherry blossoms that sweep in and usher her outside. This is where you belong, they say. Don’t turn around.

That’s when she’s greeted by the tall silhouette of her chauffeur, keys in hand and an SUV running idly waiting to take her back to Tokyo. Her smile deepens, reflecting the spark in his eye when he sees her.

No padlocked doors, no endlessly stretching oceans, no empty galaxies. Only an arm’s length keeps her from his warmth. He undoubtedly still feels like a summer night beneath that coat.

He takes her bag with the promise of food. She wonders, with her first giddy laugh of freedom, if he still believes he isn’t a gentleman. The answer is clear several plates and a hefty bill later that he gladly accepts, with a smile as sweet as the pastry they split. Don’t worry about it, he says. If she were the younger version of herself, she might have, despite his impenitence. But there's a confidence to his kindness in the way he so flippantly doesn't care how much he's spending, and it reminds her of when she did the same for him that night in the hotel bar.

Well, how their tables have turned.

A golden sky casts dim shadows when they leave, but when they reach the edges of Tokyo it’s covered in stygian ink. Where am I taking you, he asks? She doesn’t have an answer, having such an array of options yet nothing set in stone, with too many variables up in the air for her consideration. In the end she takes his offer. It’s late, after all.

But will he mind the inevitable reveal?

No, because there is nothing to hide.

Her eyes fix out the window as she gives her thanks to the night, to the lights streaking past. Murky clouds begin to creep overhead, sombering the sky. But they’re out of the car well before it downpours.

His quarters are on the fifth floor, in a hall of pale walls and glossy wooden panels that muffle their footsteps. It’s barren, except for one brief, familiar face wearing a covert smile, who pretends he doesn’t notice them as he slips into his own residence a few doors down, his sweaty ponytail swishing behind him.

For once, he has windows. A dark, stuffy room long ago trapped the stench of cigarettes in the wallpaper, and a cubby carved into the wall of an abandoned cathedral could only be sealed with a curtain. It’s strange to see decorations on his walls. He built the bookshelf himself.

Two cups of tea later, he sits alone at the table while the shower runs in the other room. Her apricot cardigan hangs from the coat rack beside his leather, a saccharine splash of paint in the stale interior of his dwelling.

He could use more color around here.

The change of clothes he leaves for her is inconsequential, for they sleep abandoned on the bathroom counter while she sleeps in his bed, after hours of whispers, gentle cries, and hot chests sticking together, after rugged tales of poetry from the book she returns, with her face tucked safely into his neck until his resonance lulls her to sleep. He follows shortly after with the rain.

In the morning, a proper greeting is in order, and they savor a homemade breakfast from the barstools of Nobuchika’s kitchen as he cooks. Across from her, a passive kiss on his cheek from her old subordinate makes him blush the color of freshly-cut strawberries in a small, glass bowl between them, while she holds Shinya’s hand in her lap under the counter.

They share an arcane glance that goes unnoticed by the other two; one has his face buried sleepily in between shoulder blades, arms wrapped lazily from behind, and the other is busy stuffing his mouth beside her. It’s good to have you back, he says silently from upturned corners of closed lips.

It’s only an ordinary morning, and yet the smile on his face renders her weightless. That first rainy night feels like a lifetime ago.


End file.
